Fragile
by Wiggles123
Summary: My take on Bender's perspective of The Beast with a Billion Backs; Bender is just a wreck so enjoy my dumpster writing! (Frender/fender/fendship)


**(Set during The Beast with a Billion Backs hours after Fry leaves Earth to live on Yivo. I've read a few takes on this incident and they all were wonderful, but here's how I personally envisioned it. Enjoy!)**

Bender felt awfully fragile.

Was that even the right word for it? There must have been a word more accurate out there to capture the brittle numbness lying stagnant in his iron body. His hands clenched and released very slowly. He couldn't really _feel_ them. He couldn't really feel _anything,_ with the exception of some sort of pale ache that he could only describe as jagged claws raking at a boundary in the pit of his stomach, a panicked rage or perhaps a fiery meltdown that was warring it's way toward the surface, but was still trapped in a glass chamber of withdrawal. He waited patiently for _it_ to come, at this point, he welcomed the relief it could bring, but so far, the beast had proven far too weak to rear it's ugly head. So, Bender just waded there in the shadows, inches from their old apartment door, feeling awfully _fragile._

He knew exactly what was behind that goddamn door, and yet he continued to pause in front of it, reading over the zeros and ones printed largely in a standard blue across the top, _(It's exactly the same as when you first moved in, when you were miserable and all by your little lonesome)_ and listening for some hint of life inside, a stir or a snore _(10:00 it's his bedtime)_ or some other sound to suggest that this was all a nasty prank, but no such reassurance came, leaving him smothered in immense but anticipated disappointment. A quick memory flashed through his mind, a few notes of that silly music he used to kind of enjoy and the silhouette of the fool who used to dance to it. What a bittersweet memory that was- He could distinctly recall getting up, reluctant to dance along beside that fool to such a stupid, primitive song about a banana boat or something like that, but he did it anyway, because, hey, they were in their own damn house, right? Those years ago, when they'd just gotten to know each other better, Bender thought it was sappy, heart-bound torture. But now, as he waited outside of this vacant shell of a home, (dying to hear that dumb-old song just one more time,) he was sure he'd never experience a happiness like that ever again. It was a blow to the chest, and the robot gasped and shuttered, but composed himself, trying vainly to keep his heart in check.

What was he to do with himself _now?_ Every single human or human-like creature was quite literally gone, including the only one that actually mattered. He'd hardly even said goodbye, or at least that's how it seemed to Bender. Fry had just handed him some lousy keys with a quick hug and some disconcerting words, and simply up and left. Shows how much _that_ jackass cared.

He wanted to with him. _Begged._ But the attempt was fruitless, Fry'd said it himself. _Robots don't go to heaven._

"Not that I'd even want to, not wi'the likes o' _you_ , you crummy loser-" a pitiful whine escaped the robot's mouthplate as he stumbled forward rather soberly, forehead against the door, and collapsed onto his knees. The day had basically drained him in every sense, leaving him intoxicated and exhausted, ready to take a lethal dose of electricity, or flick off that little switch within his chest cavity and be over and done with already. Funny, how this kind of pain only seemed to be brought on when Fry wasn't there, right? Granted, Bender had never felt the familiar, empty sting this deep before, but he could still easily recognize the feeling. Fry had completely abandoned him. No, not like that time Bender had ditched Fry on Omicron Persei 8 to save his own ass; Bender had quickly discovered what true regret tasted like when he'd pulled that deplorable, Bender-esque stunt. He was ashamed of himself, and flat-out heartbroken. The second he realized that there was still a chance that Fry was still breathing, he hijacked the Planet Express ship and careened his way to the rescue, like he would for no other, human or robot alike. No, this wasn't like that.

Fry wasn't coming back. Not after that vacant goodbye.

"You jus' think Yivo is _so great,_ doncha?" Bender slurred, pounding an uncoordinated fist into the door and blinking dizzily. He hitched his claws around the frame and climbed himself up into a half-stand. "Well, _I_ coulda showed ya _'great,'_ Meatbag," he garbled madly to himself. "Coulda shoved my _great_ in your pipe and let ya smoke it, you no-good, crooked weasel you..." And his back was pressed to the door as he slid straight down into a dismal slump, catching his visors in his silver hands, and hiccupping a sob. "Who needs ya?"

He continued to whine like an injured hound for a few minutes, and he even could feel the rust building steadily around his mouth. Fry was gone, for forever and ever. No more coffee breaks at work, no more dangerous misadventures, no more watching t.v. with him all cuddled up on Bender's lap, no more slapping him after he said something dumb, no more goodnight, love ya, no more hugs or late night gossip sessions, no more roughhousing, no more cooking for him and making him puke his guts out, no more feeling really loved, no more having someone to really love...

Bender slowly stopped crying, the stale numbness returning and containing the beast once more. He sniffled as a stray tear or two dripped free from his optics, and then stared down at the shineless floor between his legs. "I guess _I_ need ya." He admitted, knowing there was nobody there to hear this confession.

Since the day he'd met Fry by freak chance in that suicide booth, Bender had accidentally devoted his life to taking good care of that dopey manchild. He had become so used to them being together, that Bender simply forgot how to live when they were apart. Truth be told, he needed Fry. _A lot._ And that was quite a difficult thing to fess up to for someone sworn to despising humans. He gripped his head in his hands. All this thinking was giving him a migraine.

How could he have wanted _this?_ An entire universe without a trace of the humans, a whole army from Hell at his command? Well, actually, it was pretty damn cool. He had all the power he could ever ask for, a whole world to himself without that vermin species! Yet, what worth was it if Fry wasn't there to be his right-hand man? Bender's frown curled even lower as he realized that his dream-come-true was worth absolutely nothing.

Why couldn't he have just fallen in love with something _else?_ Something he could put in a little box, and keep safe. Something with an even lower I.Q. than Fry (if that was possible) that wouldn't notice that it was being smothered with unhealthy amounts of affection and run off with someone else. Something sturdy, cleanly and easy to care for without all those complex emotions and necessities that Bender would otherwise need to tend to. A turtle or a Beta-Fish might've done the trick. Maybe a cactus, those thingies didn't need much water, right? Bender sighed, knowing that any way you cut it, he still was sitting in a pool of his own oil, sober as the day is long in front of this door, and all bent out of shape over Philip J. Fry.

Bender was already starting to miss him. His sweaty-sweet smell and his soft tummy and his weird, orange hair. Even that whiny, irritating voice of his. Oh, this was going to be hell. It had hardly been eight hours, and he was a total wreck. How on Earth was he supposed to last an eternity like this?

After a half hour or so of soberish, jumbled thinking, considering, and a few bouts of weeping, the robot decided that it was best to keep his hope. Humans were confusing, fickle creatures so perhaps that dumbass might just catch a breeze _(Or get some sense knocked into him, preferably with a flaming brick)_ and change his half-witted mind. Who could say? Maybe soon he'd see what a horrible mistake he made and come crawling back. Maybe he'd be exiled and forced to return to Earth, chained and bound and with nowhere to go except into Bender's eager arms. (Bender may have had a devious thought that encouraged him to order every fembot to be dismantled, so that the greedy bastard could keep the meatbag all to himself.) And he felt his features gradually begin to grow cheerier at these marvelous ideas. Fry couldn't leave him like this. No, no. Somehow, in some way, Bender _would_ see him again. Even if he had to combat The Heavens themselves, he _would_ get Fry back. He was not Yivo's to take. Now, all Bender needed was a reason, a message of distress from Fry or something that could kick-start the strategy planning.

First things first, he needed to return to headquarters right away to wait for such message. The robot stood woozily, snatching a beer from his chest-compartment now that he had a reason to drink again. He was soon on his way to his throne to plan and plot in style, musing about his trusty pirate-hat while doing so. All of the sudden, he didn't feel quite so fragile anymore.

Maybe soon he'd get a letter of some sort from Fry. At least he hoped so...


End file.
